


Dungeon and Daddies but It's the Cast of at the Mountain of Dadness Instead

by bobadeluxe



Series: Parents and Pararel Universe [1]
Category: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, At the mountain of dadness, Crack, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Multi, POV Alternating, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Slash, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26083255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobadeluxe/pseuds/bobadeluxe
Summary: Today is the day of the Regional Peewee League Soccer Game...
Relationships: Hildy Russet/Original Character(s), Robert Wilson/Sally Wilson, Stud Stampler/Meryl Streep
Series: Parents and Pararel Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1895395
Comments: 11
Kudos: 18





	Dungeon and Daddies but It's the Cast of at the Mountain of Dadness Instead

**Author's Note:**

> ็Here's the conten warnings! Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism is referred to Meryl, who drinks irresponsibly. There's a brief scene of him vomitting, mention of blood, and just generally feeling sick. PTSD is referred to Robert regarding the death of his parents, but it's not described in explicit details. Apart from the adults, some kids swear a lot, especially Willy who insults others a bunch of time, most of all Stud. 
> 
> Do tell me if I miss anything. It's ultimately meant to be a silly little story, so I might've overlooked some stuff.
> 
> There are OCs, Meryl's daughter and Hildy's wife. I would apologize for getting out of character in advance, due to me making up what some characters would be like as a kid/in a different time period, and such.

Today is the day of the peewee regional league soccer game, and Meryl is miserable. He can't believe his daughter let this charade go on for so long. She knew he wanted her to be in Westrock Elementary's drama club, so she picked a sport to spite him. Sport! Possibly the worst thing she could've picked. Meryl does not care for it, can not relate to any aspect of it, and the parents are awful. All of them. He loathes every time he has to drop her off at practice. While waiting for her, he is forced to socialize with these meatheads who think yelling at their children makes them kick good. Then they talk about  _ have you watched the game last night _ and other nonsense. It is beneath him.

He thought she'd quit eventually now that she achieved her goal of humiliating her poor father, but no. She actually sticks with the team much to his dismay, until now that they make it to the regional tournament. What's next? Becoming a pro soccer player? His heart can't take it. She doesn't respect his legacy at all whatsoever.

"Dad!" Amanda yells as she runs down the stairs – despite Meryl telling her everyday  _ not  _ to do that – and into the kitchen. "Why are you still not ready?! Mr. Stampler is going to be here any second now."

Who? Oh right, the handsome one. They are carpooling with him and some other boys today.

Meryl slumps back into the dining chair. "You're an awful child."

Amanda rolls her eyes. "Ugh, stop being so dramatic."

"It's true, you know you are killing me. You are killing your father, Amanda."

"No, I'm not. You know what is killing you?" As soon as she says that, Meryl sits up straight to pour himself more wine. "That! Why are you drinking wine at six in the morning?"

Correction: he's been drinking since last night, but that doesn't matter.

Meryl takes a swig of wine, not bothering to savor it. "Please stop yelling, daddy is hungover."

**_"Already?!"_ **

Meryl flinches as if electrocuted. Where did she get that voice from? All that screeching and squeaking? God, it is like a rubber duck being stabbed. She got his looks alright – the dark eyes, the black hair, but not that voice. Surely he doesn't sound like that when he's aggravated. 

"What's the harm?" he asks. Oh fuck, the wine is dripping down his chin to his collars. He is wearing a white shirt, goddamnit. "I won't be driving anyway since you insisted on carpooling with your little friends. God, the indignity of it all."

Amanda frowns. "What's wrong with it?"

Meryl takes another swig. "They're going to think we are poor, Amanda."

"Literally no one cares," she says, getting more impatient. "And like, we wouldn't need to carpool if you had a sensible car, and if you didn't totally flip your shit when Barry spilled his apple juice."

"Language, young lady," Meryl scolds.

Amanda sticks her tongue out at him. Very mature. "You swear around me, so I can do it too! I'm an impressionable child, y'know, if you don't watch yourself I might go off the rail."

"You already did." Meryl puts the wine glass down. "There, happy?"

Amanda crosses her arms. "Not particularly."

"Well, we can't get everything we want in life, kid. That's a lesson for you." He picks up the bottle instead.

"Yeah, 'cause I wanted you to get ready since  _ hours _ ago and apparently that is too much." Amanda snatches the wine out of his hand, and puts it on the kitchen counter. "Stop that!"

"Admit it."

Amanda looks at him, confused. "Admit what?"

"That you picked soccer as your extracurricular activity to spite me."

"Oh my god, you're so petty," Amanda groans and shakes her head. "Not everything is about you, dad. You think I went to soccer practice everyday just to get back at you?"

"Yes."

"..Okay, yeah. I did do that." Before Meryl could interject with a vindicated _I Knew It!_ Amanda stops him. "BUT I actually, really like soccer, okay? It's a lot more fun than I thought, and I got to meet my new friends. It's why I wanna carpool with 'em."

Meryl raises his eyebrows. "Really."

"Yeah, really!" Amanda insisted.

"I thought it was because I didn't have a 'sensible' car, and that I 'flipped my shit' when your clumsy idiot friend stained the leather seat."

Amanda just looks upset now, with her lips trembling and clenching her fists tight. "Can you please just be like other dads for a day? Why are you always like this? You're so embarrassing to be around."

Okay, that one hurts. A lot. Good thing he's barely conscious at this point. Imagine hearing that while you're sober. Why, Meryl would probably need to reevaluate his life choices or something. S-O-B-E-R, son of a bitch everything's real.

"Go wait out front," Meryl says and gestures outside. "I will get ready."

Amanda sighs, visibly relieved. "We can't make them wait, okay? You gotta be quick."

"Of course, sweetie. I will be right there." Meryl pats her head, tucking her hair gently behind her ear. 

Amanda smiles a little at that, and nods. She runs out of the kitchen (again with the running indoor..) her backpack bouncing with every step. Her hair is tied in a ponytail because he was drinking instead of doing her hair. He can always do it in the car. It's fine. It's fine.

Meryl tries to stand up to check his balance. Hm, okay, now he just needs to walk straight. He can't sober up at will – obviously – but he can  _ look _ sober. He needs to change out of this shirt – no, not enough time. Let's just put a jacket over it. This part is easy at least, because his worst is still better than most of the population.  _ Ahem.  _ A big black bug bit a big black bear and the big black bear bled blood. Nice. Now do it again. This black bug bled blue-black blood while the other black–  **_BLEUGH_ ** **.** Oh god. Oh no. Is that blood? No, wine makes vomit red. Wait, then how can he tell if there's blood? He can't, that's the answer. Change shirt, jacket, brush teeth, rinse mouth, sunglasses, now that's the plan.

When he joins Amanda outside, she catches a glimpse of him and screams bloody murder.  **"Ah!** Oh god! You scared me!"

Meryl burps. "Scaredy cat."

"Holy shit, you look terrible."

"I think you mean  _ wow dad, you look amazing. _ " Meryl steps behind her. "Stay still, I'm braiding your hair."

He didn't know how to do this before he had Amanda. He didn't know anything at all when it came to raising a daughter, actually, but he thinks he's learning. Maybe. He's getting better at it – at least the braiding. He can do a fishtail now. It looks great. Does his hands always shake this much?

"I didn't mean to call you an awful child," Meryl mutters. "You can play sports. I don't even give a damn about acting anymore. I'm so drunk."

"Ugh. It's fine," Amanda says. "I know I'm a mistake."

His hands freeze in place. That is a sobering, terrifying sentence. "..What? Who told you that?"

"Google, duh. I just had to search my name to know I ended your career. That must've sucked. You were like, really famous and stuff." She sounds genuinely guilty about it too.

Meryl sighs. Why is she bringing this up now, after all this time? He knows it will have to be addressed eventually, but not on the side of the street while he's braiding her hair, completely shit-faced. 

"You were.. unplanned, sure," he decides not to lie. "But I ended my own career, Amanda."

"Yeah, for me."

"Life is just a series of mistakes." Meryl resumes braiding her hair, operating on muscle memory. There, perfect. Beautiful. "You're my happiest one. I never regret having you."

Amanda turns to look at him. "Really?"

"It's true." Meryl kisses the top of her head. "There's not a single day I’m not thankful that the condom- nevermind.”

“Uh… okay.”

Meryl is not emotionally ready for the talk.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Today is the day of the peewee regional league soccer game, and Stud is so proud. He often worries for Willy, but these days he's gaining more confidence that the kid will be alright. He went through a lot – his parents' divorce, the death of his father, adjusting to living with his uncle, and then his new elementary school. Stud feels that joining the soccer team is good for Willy, and his therapist agrees too. Willy can get..  _ competitive _ sometimes, but today marks three months without any injury! He realizes that breaking his teammate's legs doesn't help him win, so now he targets the opposing team instead! It's still bad, but an improvement nonetheless. He learns to play with others, and he has other outlets apart from defenseless animals! Stud can only hope that the rest of the team – who are all good kids – would be a positive influence on him.

"Are you ready for the tournament, kiddo?" Stud asks as they drive off to pick up the other kids who will be carpooling with them. First, Amanda Streep, that too is very exciting.

Willy is riding shotgun, but he keeps his eyes on his phone the whole time, ignoring him. "If I'm not ready by now, then we'd lose."

"Yeah, I guess that was too obvious huh?" Stud chuckles. "But that's great! Good on you for keeping your head in the game."

"Whatever."

"Are you playing a game on your phone?" Stud makes another attempt at a conversation.

"No," he shoots it down immediately.

"Looking at Tiktok?" Stud knows that one!

"No."

"Aw, how many guesses do I have?"

Willy scowls at him, finally looking up from his phone. "None. You wouldn't know what it is anyway." 

Stud keeps his eyes on the road, but he can still feel Willy's stare burning a hole through his skull. Intense kid! but he is used to it by now.

"Try me, kiddo. I know more than you'd think! I even know Tiktok," he brags.

Willy doesn't look impressed. "That shit is mainstream now. Old fucks are everywhere on the app."

"– and If I don't know what it is, you can always tell me about it! I'd love to learn about your interests."

He means it. They don't talk enough, and they spend more time arguing with each other than Stud would've liked. He needs to get to know Willy; it's the only way to get through to him. His therapist said he should find something to relate to him, something that they have in common, but apart from the fishing trip they barely do anything together. Willy doesn't leave his room most of the time. It's easier than done.

Willy does answer him this time, but he sounds annoyed. "I'm on 4chan."

Stud comes up blank. "Huh. What's that?"

Willy doesn't respond.

Note to self: look up 4chan later.

He pulls the car to the stop in front of the Streep family house, which is located in a more..  _ upper class _ neighborhood, let's say, compares to where Stud lives. A beautiful villa with a large botanical garden. No one could stop talking about the property value when they bought it. Beautiful owner too, not that Stud would say it out loud – again. He tried to hit on Mr.Streep once during practice, mentioning that he was a fan of his works, and he was ignored so pointedly that he got a whiplash. Stud hopes he didn't make him uncomfortable.

Amanda is waiting outside by the front gate; she's been waving at Stud and jumping in place since she spotted him from afar. She's got a lot of energy for such a little girl, and a smile so infectious that Stud didn't realize he was smiling back until his cheeks started to hurt. Next to her is her father, a splitting image of his daughter, though a lot more composed. He wears sunglasses that must cost more than Stud's rent, and an attractive faux-fur jacket.

"Hi, Amanda! Hello, Mr. Streep. I hope you two haven't been waiting long," Stud says as he rolls the window down.

Mr. Streep ignores him completely and just opens the passenger door. Ouch. Amanda talks to him before she climbs inside, though. "Not at all, Mr. Stampler! You're just in time. Thank you for letting us carpool with you. I'm so excited."

Stud likes her a lot, what a well-mannered girl. "It's no problem at all, kiddo. Come! Sit wherever you like."

Amanda climbs into the back of the car, sitting down besides her father behind Willy. Stud thought of attempting to talk to Mr. Streep before they drove away, but decided against it. He makes it clear he isn't interested by not taking his sunglasses off, and then turns toward the window. He decides to get the kids talking instead, since they haven't acknowledged each other yet. Amanda would humor him, he thinks, she seems quite talkative.

"So, how are you two feeling about the tournament?" Only slightly different from his first question, but hey.

"We are absolutely going to win," Amanda says with complete confidence. "The Doodler is one of the strongest teams in the region, did you know? And now that I've joined, we're better than ever!"

Willy snorts. "Yeah, and if we lose then we'd know why."

He can see Amanda frowning in the rearview mirror. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Stud does not like where this is going. 

"When we won, we weren't competing in the co-ed league, so.." Willy shrugs.

Oh boy. Willy repeats his father's sentiment a lot, almost as if he's making a point to do so now that he died. Stud loved his brother and would do anything for him, but he was not a good man. Not even a decent man, really. Stud knows for sure Willy did not know anything about science or biology. He fails those subjects every single time. Yet he sounds so confident parroting his late father. Still, whether it stems from ignorance or malice, it is still unacceptable. Mr. Streep is not saying anything.. but that's fair, he supposes. He can't be arguing with a child, it's up to Willy's caretaker to correct him.

Stud inhales, thinking of how he should approach this. "Willy, that's not an okay thing to say–"

**"YOU TAKE THAT BACK YOU ASSHOLE!"**

Amanda reaches from behind and puts Willy in a chokehold. She presses her forearm onto his windpipe, strangling the air out of him with a surprising amount of strength. Willy chokes and drops his phone, writhing uselessly in his seat. Stud starts to panic, unsure of how to break the fight while he's driving and can't possibly stop in the middle of the road. He looks into the rearview mirror, hoping Mr. Streep would intervene and stop his daughter before Willy _dies._ Mr. Streep.. does not react at all. He is resting his head against the window, calm, collected, relaxed, his chest rising up and down with each steady intake of breath.

He's sleeping.

"Willy, apologize to Amanda!" Stud speeds up to try a safe spot to pull over.

Willy says cough, cough, argh, ouch, cough, which roughly translates to  _ I'm not apologizing for shit!  _ Stud has great hearing.

"Amanda, please don't kill him, I'll make him take his words back!"

Amanda stares at his reflection in the mirror. "You promise?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eyes," Stud gives her his words.

"Ew, that's disgusting, but okay."

She releases Willy from her chokehold just as Stud pulls over to the side of the road. Willy splutters for a while, trying to inhale air back into his lungs. Stud strokes his back, looking him over if he is injured. His face is beet red and he looks utterly humiliated, but he seems to be fine.

_ How is Mr. Streep still sleeping?! _

"Are you okay, kiddo?" Stud asks.

"That bitch tried to kill me!"

"Don't call her that," Stud says quickly this time before Amanda decides to take matters in her own hands again. "But please, Amanda, don't attack someone like that. You should let an adult handle it."

Amanda huffs and slumps back into her seat, not saying anything.

Not sure when is the appropriate time to discuss misogyny with your son, but probably after he is almost strangled to death right? "You shouldn't talk to Amanda that way. There's nothing inherently weak about Amanda that would cause your team to lose."

"Oh my fucking god, I hate you so much. You can't be serious right now."

Stud is sweating now. This is a lot to tackle. He isn't sure he's equipped to say this. "And, uh, you two are around the same age, have the same amount of training, and are similar in sizes – "

"I'm sorry! Are we done? Can we go now? Please?"

Honestly, it doesn't sound like he realizes what he did wrong, just that he wants Stud to shut up, but hearing him say 'please' is so baffling that Stud complies immediately.

* * *

  
  


Today is the day of the peewee regional league soccer game, and Hildy is excited! She will be covering the first co-ed match of Westrock elementary's soccer team for the San Dimas Defender She can already tell this is going to be a hell of a story. One that defies social expectations and questions the readers of their presupposition, while also succeeding to be the classic, underdog story that America knows and loves!

Now, Hildy never covered sports news before, and some of the boys upstairs have been giving her stink eyes about it. Doesn't matter! Not important! For the past months, even before the match takes place, news have been circulating around Westrock Elementary's decision in forming a co-ed soccer team. All sorts of nonsensical speculation, fearmongering, and bad faith criticism scattering about. One brave journalist got to push against the clickbait articles looking to twist the facts to support their bias.

Oh yeah, and her son is on the team too.

"Come here, cub. Let mommy take a photo." Hildy motions Barry in front of her while she gets her camera ready. Might as well kill the time while they're waiting for their ride on the sidewalk.

"One, two, three, Doodler!"

The photo looks great, but Barry doesn't look so hot. He's sweating and drowning in his oversized uniform. His braces showing up in the photo as he can't stop chewing on his bottom lips. Hildy lowers her camera down to look at her son, who is getting more nervous with every second.

"Are you feeling alright there, son?" she asks.

"I'm scared," he admits with a tremble in his voice.

"Of the match?"

Barry shrugs. "That's a part of it."

"Do you remember the breathing exercise your mama taught you?" He nods. "Good boy. You.. breathe in through the mouth, out through the nose."

Barry tries to follow her instruction, but then stops midway. "No? it's the other way around."

Hildy furrows her brows in concentration, trying hard to remember and coming up blank. "Is it?"

"I think so."

"Darnit, alright. In through the nose, out through the mouth, balance your.. throat chakra." Nope, that isn't it. Hildy cusses; her wife is better at this wellness stuff.

Barry looks skeptical. "Fear of death is located in the  _ root _ chakra."

"I'll be honest with you, I've never understood much of you two's spiritual shtick." Nina keeps telling her that she's got  _ potential _ – whatever that means – but Hildy is too busy with her career to invest in it. She's fine with just supporting her wife's pursuits.

"I figured," Barry says with a dry laugh.

"You do look calmer though, you little hippie."

"I think you confused me out of my panic attack somehow." Barry scratches the back of his head. "Why are you.. Can't mama go with me instead?"

In truth, Nina can indeed go with him instead of Hildy. She is the one who usually takes care of school business, such as attending PTA meetings and chaperoning field trips. As an established author, she works from home most of the time. Hildy is often busy hunting her next big scoop, but this time she specifically asked to go with Barry herself because of.. reasons.

"I see how it is. Playing favorites with your mothers, eh?" Hildy teases.

"N-no," Barry immediately refuses. That boy avoids conflict like nobody's business. The way he squirms and stutters tell Hildy though that she might've just hit too close to home. Ooh, that is.. phew, unfortunate.

"It's just – the camera," he tries to explain, gesturing wildly at it.

"You won't notice it when you are on the fields! Besides, tons of folks will be bringing their cameras with them. Why, the match will be broadcasted on the local channel!" 

Nevermind, that did  _ not  _ reassure him one bit. Barry looks anxious again, twiddling the end of his uniform shirt between his thumbs. When he is with his mama, he is as calm as a river, but he seems to always be uncomfortable around Hildy. Nina is the most serene person she's ever known, and Hildy – Hildy is hustler, a gal on the go. 

"You will write a story about the match, right?" Barry asks.

"I will, but don't worry it's not about you." Oops, that sounds worse than what she has in mind.

"Oh," Barry looks more disappointed than relieved. 

"Alright, kid, look. Does mommy's news station support her decision to cover this story? No, they were not interested in the least. Is mommy going as a parent because she didn't get a press pass? Yes. Is that why she convinced the coach to let her son on the team after he failed the try out spectacularly? Only partially."

Barry resumes his breathing exercise, but in a hurried, rushed rhythm that looks like it's making him hyperventilate rather than calming him down. "Your mood is  _ really _ affecting my mood!"

"Doesn't look like it, cub, 'cause mommy is feeling on top of her game and you look like you're going to wet your pants!" 

Hildy can't help cracking up at her own words, but her laughter halts when she recalls something he said earlier. "Wait, did you say you are afraid of death?"

Right on cue, Stuart Stampler's minivan comes into view. Charming old thing, one of those old station wagons with wood panels that used to be all the rave way back when. Seems sturdy enough, and spacious to boost! Good, but even if it wasn't Hildy shouldn't have any problem squeezing inside. That is the benefit of being small. Barry can always sit on her lap.

"Look alive, Barry. You're going to do great. Remember, if you trip and fall, blame it on the other team." Hildy pats him on the back to encourage him, but it just seems to knock his frail body back and forth like those wacky inflatable men outside of car dealerships.

Hildy walks up to the driver side of the car, waving at the window as it rolls down to reveal a man far larger and taller than she would expect. That can't be comfortable, but he is smiling, unbothered.

"You must be the elusive Hildy Russett; I've heard a lot about you. Hello, I'm Stuart,  _ Stud _ Stampler." He extends a hand outside the window.

"Only bad things I hope." They laugh as they shake hands. "This little boy here is mine, Barry. Barry, say hello to Mr. Stampler."

"Hello," Barry whispers, intimidated by Stud who simply smiles at him.

Hildy takes a quick look inside and sees that Amanda is already here. Fantastic! Barry on the other hand meets eye with the boy rising shotgun – Stud's, Hildy assumes – and looks like he might  _ actually _ wet his pants. He hurries into the third, rear-facing seat of the station wagon. Kids always like the large space back there, but it looks like a matter of survival for Barry rather than enjoyment. The boy (who seems to be silently seething in rage) sneers at his reaction. Seems like there's something going on there.. but Hildy is more interested in her scoop and luckily, she's small enough to sit with them in the second row comfortably. 

"Hi, Barry!" Amanda turns to greet him in the back seat. "I'm glad you could join us."

Barry blushes. "Uh, hi. I'm glad to see you too." 

"Hello there! Hildy Russett, nice to meet you. Would you and the girls be willing to give me an interview for the San Dimas Defender?" Hildy takes the chance to ask right away, not wasting any time.

Amanda blinks. "Me?"

"That's right. I'll have to ask your parents first of course since you're a minor, but is that something you'd be interested in?"

She looks at her father from the corner of her eye. "Depends, are you going to ask me about my dad? I don't wanna talk about his acting career."

"Oh no, I do not care for that one bit. This is just about you and the girls on the team." Seriously. Hildy can not emphasize how much she doesn't care for Merle Streep or whatever his name is.

The girl must not hear that a lot, because she perks up at Hildy's word in an instant. "Awesome! Then I'm totally down."

"Hey, journalist lady, here's something you should ask in her interview." The boy in front turns to face her with a dirty look in his eyes. Hildy can almost hear his teeth grinding. "What does she have to say about the ATTEMPT MURDER of her teammate."

Hildy conjures an invisible microphone. "What do you have to say about the attempt murder of your teammate, sweetheart?"

This is going to be the biggest story of the year yet!

* * *

Today is the day of the peewee regional league soccer game, and Robert is worried. For all the concerns a father can fuss over his son, none can overcome the sinking feeling in his stomach. The same feeling that night when he lost his parents. He couldn’t pinpoint why though, so he jotted it down as paranoia. It occurs to him sometimes, this looming dread, even now as a grown man. The memory lingers at the back of his mind. It’s probably because he’s stressed, it’s Frank’s big day after all. He’s going to play in a regional league today!

“Stud said he will be here soon,” Sally says as she gets off the phone. She takes one look at him, and just knows there is something on his mind. “Aw honey, what’s wrong?”

Robert looks to the side; Frank is sitting on the swing they set up in the front yard. He has his earbuds in, listening to music while waiting for his ride, unaware of the conversation between his parents. He still talks in a hush tone anyway, just to be safe. Children are more perceptive than adults give them credit.

“I’m just worried,” Robert says, but without going into too much detail. He knows she wouldn’t mind, but he’d rather not acknowledge an unreasonable thought and worry his wife. “It’s a big day.”

“It is, isn’t it? But you don’t have to worry. Frank has been training for this! He’s so good, you know, I wouldn’t be surprised if he grows up to be a soccer player,” Sally says with pride.

He is, and it’s very impressive. Robert dare says that Frank takes more after his father, rather than him. They are both brave, willing to take risks, and have an innate talent when it comes to everything physical. They’re on a different scale of course, his father was a war hero, and Frank stands up to bullies at his school. He’s on the right track, and Robert couldn’t be more proud. He excels at sports, and although Robert would prefer him to not get into fights, he always finished them. Robert can’t play catch with him anymore these days, because he can't keep up!

Robert chuckles at the thought of his little guy playing in the big league, absolutely destroying the adults. “He is. I don’t know where he got it from.”

“From you, silly.” Sally wraps her arms around his waist. “My brave, handsome husband, who’s a bonafide stuntman!”

If anyone else says that to him, his first response would be to refuse. He didn’t feel very brave, but when Sally says it he feels like he can be. It takes an unbelievable amount of courage to look at such a wonderful woman, and say that you’re capable of cherishing her the way she deserves. He can't believe how lucky he is. He has a beautiful house, the most incredible wife, the best son a father could ask for, and he was once credited as Ugly Man in a movie. 

Never been featured in anything else since then, but it’s a good start right?

“Are you sure you have everything packed? Did you forget anything?” Sally steps back to check his bag. Robert misses her touch already.

“Yes, I think so.” He’s been looking through it all morning just to distract himself. It feels better to be prepared. “Hey, I’m going to check in with Frank real quick!.”

“Okay, honey.”

Robert approaches his son and sits down on the swing next to him. It creaks under his weight, barely sturdy enough to support an adult. One day too, Frank is going to grow out of these swings. What a bittersweet thought. Frank looks up at him and takes off his earbuds. It makes Robert smile. Some kids don’t do that, they only take off one earbud or they don’t do it at all.

“Hey dad, what’s up?” His eyes gleam under the sunlight. 

“Hey, how are you feeling champ? Excited?” Robert wonders if he’s as nervous as him.

He isn’t, of course. Frank just shrugs, cool as a cucumber. “I’m pretty pumped, yeah.”

“I just want to tell you, um, I think you’re going to knock it out of the park. But if you don’t, that is fine too. You know, sometimes things don’t work out and it’s okay. Your mother and I love you.”

“Aw, dad.” Frank laughs, a nervous little laugh. He’s at that age where his parents being affectionate is getting embarrassing, but Robert can tell he appreciates it. “That’s sappy even for you. Is everything okay?”

“Of course, I just don’t want you to be nervous.”

“You seem more nervous than me, to be honest,” Frank points out. Is Robert that easy to read? Maybe it’s because he sweats so much. “I’m okay. You’re kinda jinxing it though.”

“Huh? I’m not jixing it!” Robert startles. “.. Am I?”

“Haha, you’re fine, dad. I know It’d be okay to lose, I got you guys.” Frank pats him on the shoulder. “I’m absolutely going to win though, just so you know”

Robert snorts. “Don’t get ahead of yourself now, buddy.”

“No seriously, I’m gonna crush this.” Frank says with complete confidence.

He can't help but smile at that. “Okay, okay, if you’re so sure, but remember it’s okay to lose -”

“Yeah, but like… I’m not going to lose. Ever. I think I might be allergic to losing or something.” Frank gives his shoulder a firm squeeze before standing up. “Imma go talk to mom.”

He can't hear what they’re talking about from here, but Robert guesses it’s something along the line of  _ ‘hey mom, why is dad freaking out?’ _

Stud arrives not so long afterward. Robert and Stud are quite close; Stud has been living in San Dimas for less than a year, but they bonded over their dream of becoming an actor and stuntman. Life has other plans for them though, but it’s for the best. Robert is glad to have a new friend regardless. Frank used to hang out at his place a lot with Willy, but recently there seems to be an animosity between them. Whatever happened, it must still be going on because when they get into the car, Frank didn’t even look at Willy’s direction.

“Hey guys,” he says and sits down in the back with Robert and Barry. Amanda turns to the back seat so theycando a secret handshake, and poor Barry blushes the whole time looking at them. Man, his son is so cool.

“You hold onto something back there, alright? There’s no seatbelt,” Stud raises his voice from the front of the car.

Frank holds onto him, but Barry is reluctant to just touch his dad’s friend, which is understandable. “You can hold onto me bro,” Frank offers.

“Uh.” For a second Barry looks like he’s going to take Frank up on his offer, but then Robert feels chill runs down his spine. A glare that can't be coming from none other than Willy, piercing through all of them. Barry yelps and holds onto Robert instead.

He sure is an.. Intense kid. Poor Barry, he’s so nervous all the time. It would do him some good if he could relax. What do people do to relax? Yoga? Can kids do yoga? He has no idea.

It’s surprisingly pleasant, being crammed into this car with a bunch of kids and their parents. Frank is getting to know Hildy, who has so many interesting stories to tell. She lives quite an exciting life. The kids are getting along well too, except the aforementioned pair that continued ignoring each other. Even Barry calms down, and has an easier time talking to the others. Mr. Streep is still sleeping. Do celebrities need to still put on a disguise even when everyone recognizes him? Seems excessive, but to each his own. Oh, and he smells like a vineyard for some reasons. It’s weird.

It’s so pleasant, in fact, that he didn’t realize how long Stud has been driving.

“Uh, everyone, I think we might be lost,” Stud says.

“Fucking hell, leave it to you to fuck everything up! I can’t believe it!” Willy is about to tear his hair out.

“Hey, don’t talk to your father that way young man,” Robert tries to defuse the situation, but Willy just tells him to fuck off. Aw.

“I’ll check my GPS.” Amanda takes out her phone. Frank does the same.

“I don’t know about you all, but..” Hildy looks out of the window to an empty path. Somewhere along the way, the road just disappeared underneath them. “I’ve been to every corner of San Dimas for a scoop, and this does not look familiar.”

Mr. Streep snores.

“Maybe I should stop the car – ”

As soon as Stud says that there was nothing left in sight but a purple, swirling vortex, pulling the car into it with its own gravitational fields. Robert blinks and for a second he _sees_ , in the darkness underneath his eyelid, enormous tentacles wrapping themselves around the car –and then suddenly disappear. He sees nothing. The absence of life, the sky, the earth, everything – is colored purple. He can't make head or tail of it, but the only thing he is certain of is that he has not been a good father to his child.

Naturally, Robert starts bawling his eyes out.

“Frank! I’m so sorry for being a terrible father!” He pulls his son into a hug and holds him tight.

“Uh?” Frank pats him on the back as he blows his nose, sobbing into his son’s shirt. “You’re like.. An objectively good dad. I have no idea what you’re talking about?”

“Why the fuck are you crying too?!” Willy yells at Stud. “You’re not my father, you blonde ogre!”

Hildy blinks the tears away from her eyes. “Wait,  _ I’m  _ not a father! Why am I crying? This seems oddly exclusive.”

“Oh my god, we’re all going to die,” Amanda cries.

The sound of his daughter in distress jolts Meryl awake, but he has absolutely no idea what is going on. “Oh, are we there already? That was quick.”

Then everything goes blissfully dark.

**Author's Note:**

> 'Amanda' is from Amanda Seyfried, who plays Sophie in Mamma Mia. Sophie's mother, Donna, is played by none other than Meryl Strep! hehehe. Mamma Mia is one of my favorite movies of all time.
> 
> Sorry there's no Bill close, Meryl was a grandfather from Glenn's mother side! (...Right. If I misunderstood that then welp, fuck it.) Though I imagine he's attending Westrock too, and he's a fucking band kid. Meryl probably doesn't like him much, not in a 'no one dates my daughter!!' type of way but 'wow this kid is a tool.' 
> 
> Since this is a role reversal AU, the mega daddies are just you know, kids. So there's no oakvale stuff regarding Barry, so I think he'd just be a fucking nerd until he discovers yoga or smth lmao. Willy is still awful as usual. Cool Kid Frank is very funny to me as a concept, but I'm very easily amused. He's got the eyes of the tiger. 
> 
> There's no continuation planned cause this is just a silly idea I wanted to write, but I hope you like it! Feel free to play around with this idea if you want to, maybe our dads could be in amod setting instead, eh? Or like, what classes they would be and such. I think Amanda could be a barbarian lmao.


End file.
